


The Body Check

by evilsupergirl



Series: Teen Wolfish [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, POV Isaac, embarrassing high school shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-01
Updated: 2013-08-01
Packaged: 2017-12-22 01:18:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/907195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilsupergirl/pseuds/evilsupergirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Background to the Isaac/ Jackson relationship as seen in the fic Teen Wolfish. But this can be read on it's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Body Check

Isaac had begun the day in such an optimistic fashion. Isaac had begun the day believing high school would be different. He would be different, his classes would be different, his classmates would be different. He believed his whole world would change for the better after a span of three months and due to the change from one educational institution (junior high) to another (high school). Camden, his late older brother, had always acted as if high school was easy, if not lame. Isaac couldn’t remember a time when his brother was stressing out over a test or a project or homework, in general. If anything, he just seemed happy. They all were. So, at least, Isaac had more than his own perspective to go on when he woke up this morning, back when he was excited for school.

Isaac began his day a fool. 

He started to see the discrepancies in his logic when he was harshly, embarrassingly, maybe even cruelly, given the location and high volume of her voice, rejected by Lydia Martin. He had asked her out on a date. He had asked the most popular girl in junior high, with the foolish thought that they were now equals, out on a date. It emotionally knocked him down, but he wasn’t completely out; things could still get better. After all, Lydia was known for being a bit of a bitch. 

But then his classes weren’t better. If anything, they were harder. A syllabus? Homework on the first day? There were showers in the gym changing rooms; did this mean he’d have to get naked? He found out, as the weeks went on, that his classmates also hadn’t change from how they were in junior high. The popular kids were still popular, Lydia included. Old bullies were still bullies and every upper classmen, who was a bully, picked on the Freshmen. His gangly height was the only thing that kept him from suffering from most of the bully force. He was even able to fetch the inhaler of a boy named Scott when it was chucked down the hallway by a bully. 

His only saving grace was that he had tried out, back when his optimism was still high, for the lacrosse team. And he made it. Unfortunately, he didn’t find out until later that anyone who bothers to try out and goes to the subsequent practices, makes it on the team. It doesn’t mean they would get to play. Isaac is what is referred to as a bench warmer. 

By November, Isaac was exasperated with school. Homework, though easy, was tedious and time consuming. The syllabus did help with planning when to get a head start on projects or study for tests, but there was always some project to do or test to study for. In French alone, he had daily vocabulary quizzes. He had also learned that the showers in the locker rooms were only used by those who played sports after school. And even then it wasn’t a requirement. Gym was never strenuous enough, sorry, Physical Education was never strenuous enough... and it came with its own quizzes too. All and all, he just wanted a break.

It was during the Thanksgiving break when something extraordinary happened; he got yelled at by Jackson Whittemore. Jackson was a popular guy, he was the captain of the lacrosse team, the swim team, and he all around gorgeous. Not that Isaac took much notice. He preferred the darker featured, nicer type of guy. Aladdin was his favorite Disney Prince. Don’t judge. Where was... right, so, call it an architectural fluke, but somehow his quaint suburban home was built across the street from the Porsche of houses, this modern, high end piece of real-estate that was the Whittemore abode. Their lawn was actually green all year round, while the Lahey yard went through long yellow and brown phases. 

Jackson’s car was also a Porsche, and it was this car that Isaac accidentally hit with a lacrosse ball. The yelling, from Jackson, had been brief, but it was also the first time that Jackson acknowledged that they were on the same lacrosse team. He commented that it was no wonder why Isaac was on the bench. 

Which means he noticed Isaac on the bench. 

He acknowledged it again that Monday during practice. They were going to have a scrimmage and Coach needed to use some of the bench warmers to make the required count of twenty players on the field. Jackson insisted that Isaac not be put on his team, declaring that he was a bad shot. Isaac was used to being picked on, but for some reason he couldn’t stand it from Jackson. Maybe that’s what made him try a little harder on the field that day, why he played his utmost best; He wanted Jackson to see him differently. He wanted Jackson to like him (though honestly, he would take anyone liking him at this point). 

And he did get Jackson to look at him differently. He reveled in the feeling, in seeing that shocked expression on Jackson’s face as he jumped, intercepted his pass and successfully passed it to his own teammate. However, the new look was short loved as it was quickly replaced with a more familiar glare.

It was a good start. Well, it was a start.

When lacrosse season ended, Isaac didn’t interact with Jackson again until the last day of school. Someone, or most likely, a group of people, thought it would be hilarious to steal the bike chains from the Freshmen’s bikes (each grade has their own parking area). This left Isaac with the only option of walking... numerous miles, home. He had stayed after to clean out his locker. He had stayed after thinking he definitely had a ride home. That foolish feeling he felt the first day of school returned as he stared at his gutted bike. 

A horn shook him out of his depression. It was Jackson. Isaac looked around himself. There was no way he was standing in the way of Jackson’s car; he was on the side of the road. Jackson beeped again, with his head tilted, his slowly motioned for Isaac to come to him. Bike temporally forgotten, Isaac did. 

“Get your bike, I’ll bring you home.”

“You know where I live?” Isaac wanted to smack himself the second he asked. Jackson eyed him with a small smile on his face and gave a small huff of a laugh, he didn’t bother to answer. “Right, I’ll go get my bike.” Jackson nodded. Isaac, after carefully inserting his bike into Jackson’s back seat, he found himself sitting in the passenger seat of Jackson Whittemore’s car. And this was real life. He had fantasized about being in this car since the first time he saw it, a week before school started. Jackson may just be the only one in their year, the only Freshmen in America, to have a car while possessing only a driving permit. Hopefully, none of the ten police officers in town drive by. “Thanks for the ride.”

“You say that at the end, I haven’t done anything yet.”

“Oh.” A long silence followed. Isaac was personally grateful for it. He knew it was more than a bit ridiculous that he was having such a hard time talking to a guy who has lived across the street from him for as long as he can remember. A guy that used to be his friend. Granted, they were young and it was more out of convenience than anything else. Isaac had a bouncing ball. Jackson had a pogo stick. Isaac had a bed they were allowed to bounce on. Jackson had a bounce house they were allowed to bounce in. It was a fun way to pass the time. Then school happened. Then Jackson turned six. And then they just... stopped playing together. 

Isaac wondered if Jackson ever thought about those days. 

“So,” Jackson started, not taking his eyes off the road. Isaac noticed that when he was in the school parking lot, he had sat back, steering with one hand, but now he was clutching the wheel with both hands as they cruised forward. “It’s just you and your dad now?” 

“Yeah.”

“You like it?” Every way Isaac tried to interpret that question, it came out wrong. 

“You mean... do I like that my mother and brother are dead?”

“What, no, I mean do you like... I don’t know...”

“Do you like living with your parents?”

“Yeah, they’re all right.” Neither teenager knew what to say after that. At least, not right after. Isaac then came up with the much safer topic of school. They talked about the classes they had taken over the course of the year, thoughts on teachers, high school in general, as well as what classes they had arranged to take next year. They had signed up for mainly the same things: chemistry, gym, economics, grade ten english, etc., but what order they would be taking the classes in, if they were in the same class, wouldn’t be known until a week or so before the start of school when class schedules were sent out (along with a reminder of what the summer reading list looked like). 

When they got to their street, Jackson asked, “Are you going to play lacrosse next year?” 

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“Maybe.”

“Well, you should, you could be a decent player... with more practice.”

“Thank- was that suppose to be a compliment?”

“You can take it any way you want.” The car stopped in front of Jackson’s house. 

“Then... would you help me? You are the best player on the team.”

“True. But don’t you have friends for that?’’ Isaac hated this question. It showed up in some form or another in just about every popular internet survey: the topic of friends. 

“No.”

“Well, who do you hang out with on the team?”

“Let’s just drop it okay... thanks for the ride.” Isaac got out of the car and made it about halfway across the street when Jackson called out to him. He reminded him that his bike was in the back seat. Great, he couldn’t even make a cool exit, no, he had to awkwardly return to the scene he had stormed away from. 

“I’ll pick you up at eight, AM.” Jackson said once Isaac got his bike on the ground.

“What?”

“Are you deaf? Eight, I’ll pick you up, unless you have other plans tomorrow?”

“No, no... tomorrow is fine, great.”

And that was how Jackson became Isaac’s lacrosse coach for the summer. The practices were five days a week, just like during the school year. They only lasted an hour because Jackson would have other things planned, other people to hang out with. All and all, it was a pretty smooth transition for the both of them, considering how little they had interacted before. The game gave Jackson things to do and say so there were hardly any long pauses in-between the conversations. Isaac could actually feel his overall speed, catching, throwing, and aiming/scoring abilities getting better. However, for all the talking Jackson did, he only ever talked about the game. And the one day that changed, was the day everything changed. 

They were at the park as they always were at this hour. Isaac was feeling slightly more excited than the usual. Yesterday, Jackson had said they would work on something new, that they would move on to the next thing. 

At least, Isaac was excited until he heard what the next thing was. “What?” he questioned, he had to have heard wrong. 

“I said, we’re going to go over checking, especially body checks since you tend to just pass or give up the ball whenever another player gets near you. Now, pay attention, a decent body check is a hit to the side or chest-”

“I know what a body check is.”

“Oh really, then how come I’ve only ever seen you do stick checks.” It wasn’t really a question.

“Why are you keeping track of how I play?” besides the time he stole the ball, Isaac didn’t think Jackson paid any attention to him the few other times he got on the field during practices at school.

“I don’t, I- I’m the captain, it’s my job to know these things.” It was rare for Jackson to be flustered. Isaac pounced on it. 

“Oh yeah? How often does Scott McCall body check?”

“Who? Look, let’s just start. Now, I know you know how to evade a check, so,” Jackson said as he picked up the ball with his stick, “I want you to body check me.” He then stepped back a few paces. “Got it?” Isaac didn’t move. “Let’s go, Lahey!” Since he would be facing Jackson head on, a chest check was his only option. So he took a deep breath, started running, and hoped for the best. 

He shut his eyes before he made contact with Jackson, which is why his tumble to the ground was all the more jarring a moment later. His knees hurt, his face hurt, his pride hurt, and he could taste blood in his mouth. He wanted to disappear.

“If you had kept your eyes open, you would have seen me move. From now on, I think it’s best if you wore your helmet.” Jackson waited for a response, a nod in agreement, a complaint, or one of Isaac’s weird phrases; his unique way of interrupting what Jackson says. Instead, there was this eery stillness. “Isaac, get up.” Jackson prodded Isaac’s back with his sneaker.

Isaac grunted and slowly lifted his head up. Jackson saw red and he moved in next to Isaac as quickly as he was able. Isaac rested the front half of his body on his elbows and forearms; Jackson rested his right hand under Isaac's chin.

“Don’t.” Isaac jerked his head away and spit out as much of the blood in his mouth as he could.

“Let me see.” Jackson instructed, then added, “We should have worn our helmets before we started.”

“A helmet wouldn’t have stopped me from biting my lip.” Jackson reached out again, this time his fingers grazed Isaac’s lip. “Ow, could you not?”

“Sorry. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No.”

“All right, then get up. Let’s do it again, and this time keep your eyes open.” Isaac huffed as he was left to lift himself up off the ground. Not that he was expecting a helping hand. He ran his tongue over his lip to keep it temporarily clean. A little voice in his head reminded him where Jackson’s finger had been, where his hand had been, how close his whole face had been. 

Now is not the time for such thoughts. He tried to physically shake them away as Jackson bent over to pick up his stick. 

“Maybe it would be easier to try a side check first, since it’s a little less invasive.” Jackson was saying. He then walked over to where the ball was to pick that up too. He never got the chance because once he reached the ball, Isaac side checked him. Jackson stumbled and fell, and Isaac scooped up the ball and held his stick above his head in triumph. 

No, that’s not how it actually happened. It’s how Isaac envisioned it happening as he ran into Jackson’s side. However, Jackson noticed him at the last second, but he wasn’t able to evade the attack completely. The result was the both of them falling to the ground with Isaac half on top of Jackson; a position that wouldn’t be possible if Jackson hadn’t turned into the check or if Isaac had used his body to bump into him, as is proper, instead of running into him, which caused the mutual fall. 

“Sorry, sorry, I’m so sorry, that is not what I wanted to happen.”

“Shut up, I can’t even yell at you when you’re like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, did you get the ball, at least?”

“No... but... I kept my eyes open.” Jackson started laughing. He hadn’t meant to, but the whole thing, the conversation, their position, waking up early, yet again, with less then a half a cup of coffee, the adrenaline that ran through him due to getting tackled, it all amounted to this gut busting chuckle. And he couldn’t stop. 

“What... what’s so...” Isaac started laughing too, except he was doing it simply because he found Jackson’s reaction to be so amusing. And now he genuinely felt happy. His similar roller coaster of adrenaline driven excitement, slight apprehension, massive anxiety, stinging pain, heated embarrassment, wicked vengeance, and now, perverse confidence, all led him to do the most impulsive and, depending on the results, deadly thing he’s ever done in all his 15 years of life. 

He kissed Jackson Whittemore. 

It was brief. It was sticky. It was painful since his lip still slightly hurt. It was marvelous. It was also real. It was a thing that actually happened and it wasn’t one of his fantasies and seeing Jackson’s wide, bright eyes confirmed that.

“Oh shit.” Isaac sat up, Jackson’s hand on his leg kept him from standing.

“Relax.”

“I’m so sorry, I- I-”

“Calm down, Isaac, you think that was the first time a guy has kissed me? My best friend is gay.”

“Danny kisses you?” Isaac suddenly didn’t like Danny.

“No, but every other gay guy we meet automatically assumes I’m gay too. Danny says it’s the way I dress.”

“But... you’re not.”

“No, I’m... I’ve never been attracted to a guy before... until you, anyway.”

“Oh. Wait what?”

“Look, I got to be honest with you, I’m dating Lydia Martin-”

“I know.”

“So, whatever happens between us stays between us, okay, I don’t want to fuck things up with her.”

“Okay... sorry, I’m really not sure what you’re trying to say... what’s gonna happen between us?” Jackson rolled his eyes and then he pushed Isaac completely off of him. 

As he stood up he said, “What will happen is you’re gonna get off your ass and you’re going to run the check again.” He held out his hand to help Isaac up. “And if you do it right... I’ll let you kiss me again.”

After that, Isaac became a whole lot better at lacrosse, especially body checking.


End file.
